Note to self: Sin Titulo, by Cameron Stewart. Kind of like … an oddly light (in some ways) Donnie Darko/The Red Tree/Unknown Armies bastard love child. That will make sense to only a handful of people who stumble across this, I’m sure. Anyway, it’s brimming with really tasty ideas, although the ending was far too neat, in my opinion. When I mean a character who seems like he’s fallen out of one of the stories mentioned above … let’s just say my expectations were very different.
Still, worth a read. And the art is pretty sharp, too.
Henu akhu and happy Samhain to our honored dead; may their memories be a light in the darkness, especially this coming winter.
We celebrated a little early this year, with a trip to Indy to see the Cloud Nothings and Silversun Pickups in concert — the venue changed, so we didn’t see them in the Murat/Old National Centre’s Egyptian Room, but The Corinthian, which left me with visions of a mouth-eyed killer stalking the crowd. Thank you, Neil Gaiman. Will was very, very patient and escaped with me to the back of the room due to a panic attack near the end of the Cloud Nothings’ set, and for that (and many other things) I am grateful. The SSPUs are truly an amazing live band, with a fierce energy I honestly hadn’t expected. I will see them again, hopefully with Nikki next time (she had to quit the tour before they got to Indy …. hard to play bass when you’re carrying twins, I guess — not that Sarah was any slacker, though. Dang.).
But oh, the music. I wish it weren’t so hard to hold on to Brian’s voice, waking so many stories, and the drums echoing in my chest, and the guitar and bass swirling around them like the four winds. There’s a kind of magic there that walks hand-in-hand with the South Wind, but otherwise only exists as a pale shadow in my world.
I don’t have much else to say this year, so I’ll just add a bookmark to the Order of the Good Death. I wish I were talented enough to join them in their endeavors.
Kim Boekbinder’s doing a Kickstarter for a new album, which is the least terrible thing I’ve heard all day. The pink-haired Impossible Girl is going on walkabout in space.
Everything that our world is made of came from the cosmos. The iron in my blood came from supernovae; my heart pumps through me the violently catastrophic deaths of stars.
This knowledge makes me feel so small. And so big. So many things had to go so perfectly for me to be standing on this street corner, holding the metallic heart of the sky. (via WarrenEllis.com)
I admit I’m not enamored of the first song — it sounds too tinny to me, but that may just be my laptop speakers. If the album is as good as the last one, though, it’ll be well worth tossing a few bucks in tip jar.
I’m annually amused by Warren Ellis‘s Valentine’s Day advice:
Happy Valentine’s Day to all. And to those who hate the day, I say this: Valentine’s Day is a Christian corruption of a pagan festival involving werewolves, blood and fucking. So wish people a happy Horny Werewolf Day and see what happens.
But what’s in a name? Lupercalia is loosely connected with the ancient Greek festival of the Arcadia Lykaia (????? — lykos, “wolf”), which was held on the slopes of Mount Kykaiaon (“Wolf Mountain”), the tallest mountain in Arcadia, in the beginning of May. Lykaia was a primitive rite of passage that may have possibly entailed cannibalism and the possibility of werewolf transformation for the adolescent male participants.
In Roman mythology, however, Lupercus can be associated with the Roman god Faunus (the equivalent of Pan, the god of shepherds). Lupercus’ festival, celebrated on February 15, was also called Lupercalia, and his priests wore goatskins during all rites and celebrations. The Lupercal is also the cave where Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome, were suckled by a she-wolf, also named Lupa — which closely ties the god and the holiday to the origins of the Roman Empire.
And then there’s the Wikipedia entry, which recounts the less sensational bits of historical detail:
The festival began with the sacrifice by the Luperci (or the flamen dialis) of two male goats and a dog. Next two young patrician Luperci were led to the altar, to be anointed on their foreheads with the sacrificial blood, which was wiped off the bloody knife with wool soaked in milk, after which they were expected to smile and laugh.
So the next time you find yourself irritated by the superficial displays of affection-on-demand encouraged by this Hallmark holiday, well … just be glad you’re not standing around in your air-conditioned goatskin skivvies with milk, blood, and bits of wool dripping into your eyes as a bunch of old clergy dudes in their goatskin skivvies wait expectantly for you to smile and laugh on cue.
Because that’s not creepy and awkward at all. (Probably. I mean, I don’t know what you people do for fun.)
Wow. No posts since August … Apparently I’m officially back in hedgeturtle mode* (which demands a mascot, yes…must work on that).
Things that have happened since my last post, in no particular order:
We drove 2,300 gloriously winding miles to New England and back, and saw mountains and fall foliage and stayed with Will’s grandmother in a lovely Maine fishing village. Sadly, the moose avoided us. This time.
The new school year started, and we have a temporary but thoroughly awesome marketing and communications specialist on board for the new year. If they don’t let me keep him, I will cry great tears of fury and then the revenge plotting will begin. Just you wait.
My personal laptop had decided its screen looks FABULOUS in rainbow-colored vertical stripes, and so it keeps acquiring more. And more. And we’re quickly reaching the point at which the pretty stripes are making it sort of impossible to read/watch anything.
A new season of MLP:FIM has begun, and I’ve not seen any of them. (See FABULOUS rainbow-colored stripes.) Yes, I could watch them on Will’s computer, but I have to wait for him to go to bed and then sit in an uncomfortable chair instead of my comfy couch-nest, and I’m sure I could probably come up with something else to whine about if you give me a minute…
A squirrel got stuck in our family room chimney a few weeks ago. It’s still there, as the critter catchers couldn’t get to it without either removing the back furnace or the fireplace itself. So huzzah for space heaters! Boo on contractors and critter catchers not returning calls! [Filed under: The House Is Trying to Kill Us.]
Samhain quietly came and went. Peace to all who observed third harvest, and spent time remembering their Honored Dead. Blessings also to the Honored Dead among us. May we make you proud, and be always mindful of those who have gone before.
We spent fourth harvest (Thanksgiving) with Will’s family. It was both delicious and entertaining, as expected. I was most impressed by the small child who clearly preferred cheese over cookies. Cheeeese. Smart kid.
I voted in our local elections and was cheered by the staffers and saluted by a veteran for taking the time to do so. (Next time I’ll ask where the cookies/massage line starts. I bet you’d get a lot more voters…) This particular vote was important to me, because I very badly wanted to see some city council members replaced — specifically those who kept blocking gender-based anti-discrimination policies in housing, employment, public facilities, etc.
Collaborative yoga is on hiatus because we lost our teacher and couch-nesting season makes me not want to go Out There unless I absolutely have to. Also, hedgeturtle. I rest my case.
We discovered a sushi/boba tea shop at the southern end of downtown St. Joseph. As much as I like Sweet Moon Tea, this other place is kind of awesome — they don’t use powders, but fresh ingredients. The taro was kind of amazing. If only I could remember the name.
Skyrim and Saints Row: The Third came out. I have mixed feelings on both games, though SR3 might warrant its own post. I’m replaying SMT: Strange Journeys on the DS. Maybe I’ll finish it this time! A girl can dream.
We are now in the “consume ALL the things” phase of the “holiday” season. November is almost over. Seriously. When did that happen?
That is all.
This site desperately needs an overhaul. Put that on the things to do list, Ghost Assistant.
*Hedgeturtle: My antisocial side when I’m in hiding mode — a cross between a hedgehog and turtle, all prickly and withdrawn. Coined during a conversation with the lovely Erin Palette.